Cover of Night

by Laura Griffin

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  ONE

  * * *

  “How’s it going in paradise?”

  Karly Bonham smiled at the sound of her sister’s voice over the phone. She hadn’t talked to Rachel in almost a week.

  “And before you answer, I should mention that I just came off a double shift at the hospital,” Rachel added.

  “Then I won’t tell you that I’m working on my laptop while sipping a mango daiquiri and gazing out over turquoise water.”

  “God, it sounds heavenly.”

  “It is,” Karly said, taking in the view. Set amid tall coconut palms on a secluded island, the Sapphire was one of the most beautiful resorts in all of Thailand. “I’m going out on a boat later, and I’ll send you a picture from the water.”

  “I should have been a reporter.” Rachel sighed wistfully. “So how is the story coming?”

  “I’m almost finished with the draft.”

  “Is he as hot as they say?”

  He was Anthony Mancuso, the newly appointed U.S. ambassador to Thailand. Besides being drool-inducingly handsome, he was one of the wealthiest men in Southern California, and he was a widower. Karly’s magazine had sent her overseas to write a cover story about him.

  “Hotter, actually.”

  Rachel laughed. “Now I really hate you. What’s he like, besides hot?”

  “Much nicer than I expected,” Karly said, as a young woman entered the restaurant. “But listen, can I call you back later to talk about it?”

  “Oh my God, is he there?”

  “No, but his daughter just walked in. We’re having lunch together.”

  “Seriously? Look at you working that connection.”

  The ambassador’s daughter was trailed by a man Karly didn’t recognize, along with one of her muscle-bound security guards, who was trying—and failing—to blend in with the tourists in a blue Hawaiian shirt.

  “We’ve gotten to be friends,” Karly said. “I interviewed her for the piece, and then we started hanging out.”

  “What is she like?”

  “Sweet. Funny. And she’s kind of at loose ends, too. Reminds me of me when I was nineteen.”

  “Well, call me back, because I’m dying to hear everything. Including all the juicy details you don’t put in your story.”

  “What do you mean? I put everything in my stories.”

  “You do not, which is why people talk to you. I’ll let you go. Have fun, okay?”

  Karly hung up just as Natalie approached the table, laughing with her new male friend. She smiled down at Karly and peeled off her sunglasses.

  “I hope you don’t mind. I ordered us drinks and conch fritters,” Karly said.

  “Perfect! I love their daiquiris here. Karly, have you met Tom? He just arrived last night.”

  They traded introductions, and Karly shook hands with the man, who wore silver Ray-Bans and looked athletically handsome in a snug-fitting T-shirt and board shorts.

  “Nice to meet you,” Karly said.

  “Likewise.” He nodded at the press pass on the table beside her laptop. “So you’re a reporter?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I saw you with that photographer this morning, and I figured you were a model.” He picked up the pass. “You do print or TV?”

  Karly caught Natalie’s smirk. “Print. I’m with Pacifica magazine.”

  “Nice. Hey, I was just telling Natalie about the reef on the west side of the island. You like to dive? We’ve got a trip leaving at two, and there’s room on the boat.”

  “Thanks, but I’ve got plans,” Karly said.

  Natalie smiled at Tom as she pulled out a chair. “Maybe tomorrow?”

  “Sure, sounds good. I’ll find you.”

  He walked off, and Natalie took a seat. She gave her security guard a look, and he stepped away to give them some space.

  “Who was that guy?” Karly asked.

  Natalie rolled her eyes. “Some travel writer who was chatting me up in the gift shop.”

  “He’s cute.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Too old for me.” She picked up her drink. “You should definitely go for him, though.”

  Karly smiled. She supposed twenty-eight sounded ancient to a nineteen-year-old.

  “Thanks, but I’m off men right now. And since when do you have a thing about age? You flirt with your bodyguards, and they’ve got to be pushing forty.”

  Natalie waved her off. “Oh, that’s nothing. I just do it to drive my dad crazy.”

  Karly had figured as much. Natalie had a rebellious streak. Besides flirting with her security detail, she’d been turning heads all week by walking around the resort in a teeny black bikini that was more string than fabric.

  Karly had a bikini on, too, but her hot-pink halter covered a bit more skin, and she’d thrown a gauzy black cover-up on before coming to lunch.

  “So why are you off men? Is that even possible?” Natalie plucked an orange slice from her drink and nibbled on it.

  “Long story.”

  “Great. I’ve got time.”

  Karly watched her, debating how much to say. “My boyfriend moved to the East Coast and talked me into trying a long-distance relationship with him.”

  “How did that work?”

  “It didn’t. He cheated on me.”

  The waiter returned with a steaming plate of conch fritters. Natalie smiled and thanked him in Thai, demonstrating some of the Mancuso charm her father was known for.

  “I’m guessing this guy’s an ex now, right?” Natalie asked.

  “Right.”

  “Then you’re free to move on! What’s stopping you?” Natalie popped a fritter into her mouth.

  “Trust me, you get cheated on enough times, you need a break from the whole scene.”

  Natalie eyed her skeptically. “I think what you need is a scorching-hot fling.”

  “You sound like my sister.”

  “She’s right.”

  “Enough about me. Let’s finish our conversation from yesterday. You were telling me about school? UCSD, right?”

  Natalie rolled her eyes. “It’s just a hypothetical at this point.”

  “How come?”

  “I got into the five-year business program. It was my mom’s alma mater, and my dad really wants me to go, but I don’t know. I’m torn.” She sighed and twisted her long dark hair into a knot at the top of her head. “I’m thinking I should take a year off. You know, travel some, figure out if it’s really what I want to do before I waste a lot of time and money.”

  “Sounds logical.”

  “Thank you. Can you tell him that, please? He keeps telling me I’m being immature. I swear to God, he treats me like a kid.”

  “Well, you are his kid.”

  A woman walked up to their table and smiled. Malai wore a pink sarong and a floppy hat, and you would never know from looking at her that she was one of the country’s most successful businesswomen.

  “We still on for snorkeling?” she asked Karly.

  “Wouldn’t miss it. I haven’t been out there yet.”

  �
�You haven’t?” Natalie’s mouth dropped open. “This is your last day!”

  “See?” Malai looked at Natalie. “I told her she works too hard. Aren’t blond girls supposed to have more fun?”

  “That’s why I’m taking the afternoon off as soon as I finish this draft,” Karly said. “You want to come with us, Natalie?”

  “No, thanks. I was out there this morning. But you guys ­enjoy.”

  “Boat leaves at three,” Malai reminded Karly. “See you at the pier.”

  Natalie shook her head as Malai walked off. “No men, no snorkeling. What the heck have you been doing this whole time?”

  “I’ve been stuck in my room working.”

  “Well, time for some R and R.” Natalie lifted her drink and clinked glasses with her. “Better late than never.”

  * * *

  Karly envied the newlyweds.

  She watched from the dive boat as they strolled hand in hand along the white sand beach, their heads tipped together—probably sharing an inside joke.

  Sure, looks could be deceiving, but Karly couldn’t help but think they seemed like the perfect couple, spending a perfectly blissful holiday at one of the most exclusive resorts in Asia. Named for the glittering water surrounding it, the Sapphire was every bit as dazzling and luxurious as the name implied, and Karly was grateful to be here. She only wished it were for pleasure instead of business.

  “Karly? Did I lose you?” Her editor’s voice on the phone jerked her back to reality.

  “I’m here,” Karly told her.

  “Can you confirm you’ll make the deadline?”

  “Absolutely. I just finished the draft.”

  Just was a bit of an overstatement. Karly had finished the draft hours ago and shut down her computer in time to enjoy her last afternoon. Before leaving on this assignment, she had promised her sister that she’d (1) flirt with an attractive man at the hotel bar, and (2) take the time to go snorkeling. At least she’d managed to keep one of her promises.

  Karly tossed her snorkel into her beach bag and squeezed the seawater from her long ponytail.

  “Any chance you’ve seen Drew’s photos?” Jana asked, and Karly pictured her editor gazing out the window of her condominium overlooking San Diego Bay. It was nighttime in California, and Jana had stayed up late to make this phone call.

  “Not yet,” Karly reported. “But he told me he got some great shots. Mancuso reeling in a fish, kayaking. Drew was especially excited about some shots of him and his daughter.”

  “Good. The whole point is to humanize him. Readers want to see the man behind the mystery.”

  Karly had heard all this at the staff meeting. Mancuso was one of the most eligible bachelors in Southern California, and Pacifica readers—many of whom were female—were hungry for information about him.

  Karly was beyond excited to be tapped to write this cover article. It was her first overseas political assignment. It was her first overseas assignment period, and she was determined to prove herself to all the higher-ups at the magazine. Just because she covered the celebrity beat, that didn’t mean she couldn’t write an article with some meat on the bone.

  “I’m almost finished,” she told Jana now. “I’ll have something to you by eight A.M. your time.”

  “Not a minute later. And will you remind Drew? He’s not answering his phone. I’m guessing he’s working?”

  Playing, more likely. He’d been all over the ambassador’s assistant, Raina, since the moment they’d set foot on the island—which was hardly surprising, given that the woman looked like a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model. Drew was a shameless flirt, but he never failed to produce stunning pictures.

  “I’ll remind him,” Karly said.

  “Thanks. And hey, be sure to enjoy your last day!”

  “I will.”

  Karly ended the call and tossed her phone into her beach bag as Malai climbed the ladder onto the boat.

  “Did you see that reef shark?” Malai asked her.

  “No.” Thank God.

  “Right beside that giant brain coral.” Malai sat on the bench beside Karly and pulled off her mask. “It was huge. At least as big as me.”

  Karly shuddered. Her fear of sharks was even worse than her fear of heights.

  Malai pulled off her fins and stowed them under the bench. Then she spoke to the captain in Thai. The boat’s engine sputtered to life, and they started moving toward shore as Malai checked her dive watch. “Drink time. I’m ready for a rum punch. Want to join me?”

  “Sure.”

  Malai was a private person, but over several cocktail hours, Karly had managed to learn that she was an executive at one of Thailand’s biggest telecom companies. She was vacationing alone, and Karly had taken a liking to her on the first day.

  They motored toward shore, and Karly tipped her face to the sun. She loved the balmy island breeze and the briny smell of the ocean. She’d spent most of the trip holed up indoors, interviewing the ambassador and members of his entourage. Now it felt good to play hooky for a few hours.

  As they neared the beach, she watched the honeymooners again. Brad and Brianna. Even their names sounded perfect together. They were Australian. Karly had met them on the ferry ride out here. They were friendly and easygoing, and their happiness had been infectious—reminding Karly that not everyone on the planet had her back luck with relationships.

  Brad dropped to his knees in the sand. Karly watched curiously. Was he doing an engagement reenactment? He fell facedown onto the ground, and Brianna collapsed beside him.

  “What the—” Malai stood up.

  A man ran onto the beach, and Karly recognized Drew’s bright green swim trunks. He raced to the end of the fishing pier, waving his arms at the dive boat.

  Karly’s stomach plummeted. “What—”

  Something exploded beside her. The captain pitched to the floor. Malai’s shrill screams reverberated through the air, and Karly stared in disbelief at the expanding red puddle under the captain’s body.

  He’s been shot.

  Karly scrambled over to the captain, clumsy in her fins as she crouched beside him and tried to turn him over, but he wouldn’t budge. She blinked down at her blood-covered hands and realized he was dead. Dead.

  Malai’s screams intensified.

  Karly glanced at the beach, where a man wearing head-to-toe black stood pointing a machine gun at the boat. Fire blazed from the muzzle. The side of the boat burst into splinters near Karly’s head. The screams ceased as Malai fell back into the water with a splash.

  Oh my God oh my God.

  Karly flattened herself on the floor of the boat. She pressed her cheek against the hard surface, staring at water and blood and bits of flesh. Her vision blurred. Her heart thundered. She realized the high-pitched shrieks she was hearing now were coming from her own mouth.

  She reached for her beach bag and grabbed her phone. 911. Call 911. But this was Thailand. She got to her knees and jabbed at the phone with shaking fingers. She pressed a number and prayed for a connection, then waited through the surreal sound of her editor’s voice-mail greeting followed by an endless beep.

  “We’re under attack! We’re—”

  An explosion beside her head. Karly ducked down. Chunks of plastic and fiberglass flew everywhere as the helm of the boat was hosed down by gunfire.

  Rat-tat-tat-tat. Rat-tat-tat-tat.

  She peeked over the side and saw more black-clad men swarming the beach. Where was Drew? Where were the ambassador’s guards? Where was anyone?

  “Help us!” she screamed into the phone. “We’re under attack! Three, four . . . six men with machine guns!”

  She watched with stunned horror as two of them started wading out toward the boat. Karly reached for the steering wheel as another barrage of gunfire sent splinters flying.

  She lung
ed for the side. Bullets hissed past her ears as she leaped into the water.

  * * *

  Beach insertions were tricky. Especially under a full moon and over a strip of sand guarded by half a dozen heavily armed men. The team’s other option was rock portage along the island’s northern side, followed by a short trek through the jungle. That route had been left open, and with good reason. Why waste the manpower? The tangos no doubt knew that trying to land a boat along a mile-long pileup of razor-sharp rocks was essentially suicide, which meant a beach insertion—as tricky as it was—was the easier option for any rescue team.

  Ethan’s team had opted for the rocks.

  In the three years since Ethan had joined Alpha Crew, his team had never chosen ease over surprise, and tonight was no exception. Once they made it over the jagged rocks, they’d have a clear tactical advantage. Surprise was key, always, as any SEAL would tell you. In fact, given the choice between going up against the enemy armed and expected or unarmed and unexpected, Ethan would choose the second option any day of the week.

  So rock portage it was. But what had sounded good in the briefing room was now turning into a challenge, as the wind suddenly picked up and the surf pummeled his team’s rubber vessel.

  Ethan glanced over at Jake and signaled the count. On three, Ethan and his teammates wrenched the boat from the sucking waves and heaved it over the rocks. Careful not to lose footing on the slick terrain, they hauled the boat behind a massive boulder and stashed it for later. They were planning an air extraction, but it never hurt to have options.

  Ethan and his team moved swiftly over the craggy shoreline, scaling rocks and driftwood as they made their way toward higher ground. The pinnacle of the island was a densely covered hill, where the enemy had likely stationed at least a couple of guards.

  Under cover of darkness—or as dark as they were going to get tonight with a big-ass moon shining down on them—they darted from the rocky shoreline into the jungle.

  Ethan adjusted his night-vision goggles and scanned his surroundings. Palm trees mostly, with a tangle of vines and other vegetation close to the ground. The team moved through the brush, searching as they went. NVGs were great for spotting predators—especially the human kind—but depth perception was shitty, so moving around required skill. About twenty feet into the jungle, the team split apart: two men headed for higher elevation, two men headed for sea level.